


Crossroads

by myriddin



Series: Consent [6]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Chocolate, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family Secrets, Long Lost/Secret Relatives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-08 03:55:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6838096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myriddin/pseuds/myriddin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That letter Jon chose to ignore a few installments ago? It's coming back to turn his comfortable little world upside down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crossroads

“I can’t believe you got fish and chips, _again_.”

Jon rolled his eyes at the dramatic emphasis his girlfriend placed on the last word. “You know I don’t like spicy things.”

“I keep telling you to just use more yogurt sauce,” Sansa retorted, her arm wrapping protectively around the bag containing her curry, offended on a molecular level over Jon’s aversion.

“Can’t. I’m lactose intolerant.”

Sansa stopped in her tracks, regarding him with a flat-eyed stare. “Convenient, considering you take more milk in your tea than you do tea.”

Jon huffed. “Sansa, love, I ate a hummus and kale wrap for you today, can’t my apparent food sacrilege be forgiven for one night?”

She sighed and stepped closer to link their arms. “For tonight.”

Jon smiled. “We’ll compromise next time, yeah? Shawarma or Pad Thai, maybe.”

Sansa pursed her lips, her face taking on an exaggerated contemplative expression as they entered the door to Jon’s building and made their way to the lift. Jon chuckled at her antics, reaching his hand into his takeaway sack to pull out a small paper bag, handing it to her as he pressed the button for the third level. Sansa arched a brow in interest as she opened the bag, her mild suspicion changing to delight when she saw the contents. “Chocolate! You beat me back to the tube, when did you find time to pop by the sweet shop on your way to the chippy?”

“I’ve learned to teleport, didn’t I tell you? How else would I get crème eggs in November?”

“Wispa and Dairy Milk as well,” she mused dreamily.

“Three kinds of Dairy Milk.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder with a breathy little chortle. “We’ll get shawarma next time. You definitely earned your meat.”

Jon pressed a kiss to her hair as the lift doors opened to their floor, and the couple untangled to step out into the corridor. “I’m so glad you’re guarding my carnivore indulgence points,” he replied, amusement coloring his tone.  
  
He turned his head back toward her expecting to see a teasing smile in return, but instead he found Sansa had fallen a few steps behind him, a puzzled frown on her face as she focused on something at the opposite end of the hall, where the flat he shared with his mate Sam resided. “Jon, do you know who that is?”

“No, I don’t.” Jon’s forehead furrowed as he looked in the same direction, his strides lengthening and picking up speed as they headed for the flat with new purpose.

The stranger turned toward them, offering a genial smile as they approached. Tall and lean, he was classically handsome with fine, aristocratic features and silver-blonde hair worn long enough to pull back into a loose ponytail. He wore a tailored woolen overcoat that likely cost more than all the commissions Jon had ever received combined. “Good evening. Are you Jon Snow?”

Sansa slipped her hand into Jon’s as she watched her boyfriend’s face harden. “I’m Jon. Can I help you?”

A tinge of apprehension penetrated the stranger’s pleasant demeanor. “I’m sorry to intrude. I never received a response to my letter, but I felt this was too important not to address face-to-face. My name is Aegon Targaryen, and I’m quite certain I’m your brother.”

+++

“What makes you so sure that we’re related?”

Jon’s bluntly delivered question caught Aegon’s attention away from his preoccupation with the mug sitting on the table before him. He raised purple eyes to meet Jon’s intense regard. “My father- _our_ father- he passed about this time last year.” He paused, studying Jon’s face for a reaction, but Jon kept his expression blankly impassive. The two of them were alone as Sansa had taken her food next door to visit with Pyp and Grenn, giving them privacy to talk. “It was only recently that I could bring myself to begin going through his things. I found a folder of paperwork beneath a false bottom in one of his desk drawers-”

“A false bottom? Was he MI6?”

A ghost of a smile played across Aegon’s lips. “Rhaegar Targaryen was many things, but James Bond he was not.” He sighed softly, grabbing the large manilla envelope he had earlier pulled from his coat, offering it to Jon.

Jon shuffled through the papers in the envelope, his face suddenly clouding over with incredulous shock and fingers freezing as they came across one particular document.

In his hand lay the birth certificate of one Jonathan Christopher Snow, born the 17th of December, 1994. Mother: Lyanna Snow, father unknown.

He existed. Sweet Lord, here it was before him, printed in black and white solidity to show that this existence of his was not just some fruitless whimsy.

Jon drew in a shuddering breath, letting his eyes close tiredly. “He knew about me the entire time.”

“I’m afraid so.”

+++

He read quietly, the words low and soothing as Sansa laid her head against his shoulder, focusing on the warm sound of his voice and the slow rise and fall of his chest as he breathed,

“If music be the food of love, play on;  
Give me excess of it that, surfeiting,  
The appetite may sicken and so die.  
That strain again, it had a dying fall.  
O, it came o’er my ear like the sweet sound  
that breathes upon a bank of violets,  
stealing and giving odour...”

He trailed off, the prose interrupted with a quiet yawn from the girl in his arms. He laid his head back, gently combing a hand through the auburn curls draped over his arm. Sansa sighed softly, nuzzling absently against his neck, “Hi,” she whispered a little sheepishly, aware she’d been caught half-dozing as he read to her.

Jon smiled softly, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. “Hi.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m not the one expected to write an essay on the Twelfth Night.”

“It’s a good thing then that I have a month to finish it.” Jon smiled fondly and held a piece of chocolate to her mouth, Sansa happily closing her lips around the offering, humming contently as the sweet taste met her taste buds. “Mmm, I adore caramel.”

Jon grinned and leaned down to kiss her softly, teasing his tongue along the seam of her lips. “Is it caramel now? I suppose that means we finished all the toffee?”

“We did.” Sansa sweetly returned his kiss, drawing back to study his face. “Jon?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you alright?”

Jon paused for a moment, then leaned down to nuzzle her cheek. “Right now, I honestly don’t know. But I will be.”


End file.
